


The Beautiful, Sacred Haven God Hath Lead Me To

by Chiister



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crack, Just don't read this if you value this website, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7692262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiister/pseuds/Chiister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night of dancing, life, passion, and horniness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beautiful, Sacred Haven God Hath Lead Me To

Despite bombarding the Spaniard with heated glares, the fucker’d stalk off to get more wine, like _this single, hot, young Italian’s body wasn’t ready…_ but it was, and I wanted friction. Like, a _lot_ of friction… especially on my cock, which kept air-thrusting at Antonio… betraying little prick, go think of your dead Grandpa mounting you. Eventually, I got it under control and I was able to push myself away from the shaded doorway to the area underneath the big-ass chandelier, which was in the middle of a marble-splashed, glass-window-littered… room-thing. It was a fancy party. Fancy clothes, fancy hair, regal music… fuck that harpsichord, it began to boil my brain… and I had to listen to it most of the night. We weren’t at some shit rave-party where I could grab his collar and force him onto me as my back slammed into the wall… oh no, I couldn’t even have my shirt’s first three buttons undone or Mister Rotter-dick Edel-shit would swing around and chide me. I thought, ‘maybe I could at least dance with _him_ ,’ but my brain decided that grinding my erection against Antonio’s leg while we weren’t actually together _may not_ be a good idea. Hell, we should talk. Talking to a possible partner about sex is always, always, _always_ a good idea... or so I’ve heard. I’m not sure how I managed to put off on that, but I did with all my previous sex partners. All of my guy-babes I’d play around with liked a cock up their ass or theirs down my throat, so I never had to encounter a talk with them. I’d follow all my girl-babes leads, and whatever they’d do, I’d comply. All I had to do for us and me to have a good time was wrap myself around their finger and I’d read whether they wanted me to step up or lay back and watch. Simple. As. Fuck. If Antonio didn’t want to bottom, I’d suck him off and that would be that. Maybe we could sixty-nine, but there was no way in hell that I’d be the one with his junk up my trunk.

            …Though the dreams that kept visiting me over the past week screamed otherwise.

            Maybe I should’ve experimented in the free-time I had earlier that day when I woke up moaning that morning.

            Nope, I’d decided to keep my fingers out of there.

            Anyway, it had been a long time since I spotted Antonio, so I just hung around the wall, hoping to catch another server to replenish my drink.

            What if Antonio was the server?

            What if Antonio wore a little black apron?

            What if _I_ wore it for him?

            I’d catch his attention in a heartbeat. The flimsy piece of cloth might fall off my supple body any minu-

            _Target spotted._

            What? No, not the Spaniard- the server. I needed more wine. The more wine I drank, the looser I became, and despite my flushy-blushy-crushy-virginy attitude some think I give off, my mind can get pretty dirty, which sometimes I like to indulge in.

            Dirty like the dancing that babe was doing over on the dance floor, my God. Shake that ass, Antonio.

            What?

            Was that a hint of denial felt in the back of my throat?

            Drown in wine, little motherfucker, you. I brought my glass up to wet my parched lips and throat, but I managed to splash liquid down my cheek and onto my expensive shirt. Strangely, I wasn’t bothered by that or the tugging at my free hand by some dude I probably didn’t like, and in a normal, not wasted situation, I probably would’ve beaten him into oblivion. All I knew was that each step that we took to the middle of the floor was closer to that shining ass-god who kept shimmying away.

            Apparently, my partner intrigued by my eyes and blabbity-blah-blah, I don’t want you to fuck me, hot-but-not-as-hot-as-the-Spaniard,-sir, but I didn’t tell him that. I just ‘mm’ed at his confession. After turning every which way to break my eye-contact from my initial prize, he dropped my hands and walked away. Slightly fuddled by his departure, I turned my complete attention back on Antonio.

            Antonio's eyes lit up and stepped close as led me off into a dance that left me rolling my eyes and internally screaming crude commentary. That wasn’t the sexy, hip-grinding dance he _had_ been performing, that had been some shitty “la-dee-da, skipping with the flowers,” NOT POWERFUL, WONDERFUL, OR DIRTY STROKING.

            I loved this guy for _years,_ and the dance he chose to dance with me was a light, innocent… SHIT-THING, so I whispered into his little delicious ear _exactly_ what I wanted to do to him, and he was quick to squirrel us away in one of Roderich’s many little royal bedrooms.

            He had whispered sweet nothings into my ear as he threw us both down onto the fluffy sheets, then started to nibble my neck. I pulled his face back up to mine, engaging his wandering mouth in a deep battle. His open mouthed pants grew more and more frequent, then he released a long, drawn out moan- the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. He gasped out my name, and I pulled myself lower, tackling his vest and button-up shirt. I wasn’t sure how his shaky arms continued to support him, but he never actually collapsed upon my body. Antonio pushed himself onto his knees, then shrugged out of his coat. His lust-filled eyes never left mine, not even as he ran his hand down my chest, swiftly unbuttoning everything, including my pants. There wasn’t anything I could do to remove the clothing all the way after he pressed his stomach and my chest together, but it didn’t really feel like it _needed_ to come off. I was interested in him, and him alone. The silly shirt and pants that clung to me could wait, I wanted action.

            ...So I caused action and movement. My tongue swirled around his dusky nipple, quickly followed with my gently scraping teeth… he liked it, and I applied similar movements with my fingernails to his other. Growing restless with each bit closer my knee climbed between his thighs, he sighed deeply, and thrust his hand down the front of my pants and boxers. It set me off in a low moan, accidentally clamping down on his pert nub, leading him to hiss.

            I dropped my mouth from the abused area and raised my worried eyes to his, which were partially pressed into his palm. He continued to apply pressure to different parts of his face, then he crawled back a bit to aim his lips over my eager ones. Grateful he wasn’t hurt much, I raised my arms up and over his shoulders as Antonio’s soft, but rough-pressing lips and tongue made out with my own.

            The smooth, cock-blocking fabric also known as his goddamn fucking pants rubbed against my freely bouncing erection. Pre-cum dribbled down the side of my aching cock, staining both his and my pants… what a shame, those pants looked _so_ good on his majestic buttocks.

            _Just_ as I was about to push him back and bless the throbbing tent in his pants with dozens of angelic kisses and shove it deep in the back of my throat, Antonio’s forehead was nuzzling my left shoulder and he murmured for me to turn over. Hypnotized by his sweet voice, I had no choice but to comply…

Being ravished had a whole new feel to sex. It made me feel like I was a prince and Antonio was my servant or something… pretty hot, actually. He would joke about how my shit-attitude made me appear ungrateful and whiny, but waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay underneath that, I had a heart of gold… like some prince-thing. His stupid nickname for me fit, I realized. Bottoming… I guess there wasn’t much to do, because Antonio just kept holding me in just the right way, allowing my hips to have as much bucking freedom as they needed as Antonio went back to jerking me off. The sweat made my back slick to Antonio’s gold, toned chest. The blinding sensations were winning me over as my orgasm neared, my hearing threatening to cut out and my eyes pulled shut. He whispered into my ear, and I hastily gave a ‘yeah, sure.’ At this point, I didn’t care. Anything seemed like a good idea, even the unspoken ones.

Then he pulled back.

…And I was cold.

So I turned to him, ready to bombard him with questions-

…Which kind of maybe escaped my brain when his large, calloused, non-yaoi hands began to knead my ass. He slapped one of the cheeks, obviously feeling playful and _not feeling the possible death auras surrounding him and his hot, naked ass._

But… I’d actually been feeling too timid to do shit ever since he'd nudged me onto my hands and knees. I just buried my burning face into the sea of comforter and tried to push away the new embarrassingly weak feeling I got when Antonio touched me like that. I hoped that whatever Antonio was doing would grant me a quick, easy release. As much as I loved him and wanted to feel like this forever, I was desperate.

Without warning, I felt pressure on my entrance.

“Is this okay, Lovinito?” Slowly, he ran his knuckle up and down.

Too dazed to remember my earlier opinions on the matter, I lazily nodded, granting me a dazzling smile.

_Okay, **that** had been worth it._

If that smile hadn’t been enough, then the feeling of Antonio’s warm, tickling breath down there followed by a warm, wriggling appendage would’ve made me happy.

…But his face contorted into a grimace, and he let out a small moan. He pulled out, shuddering. He refused to let his tongue past his lips, and he ducked his head onto the creamy bedding. He roused himself onto his feet and exused himself to the bathroom.

Oh.

I stared at the marked sheets.

Shit.

Literally, shit.

That

was

my

shit

and

it

was

on

his

tongue

DEAR

GOD,

HELP

ME  


Thankfully, as I couldn’t see past my stinging eyes, God patted my back and coaxed me into the closet, leaving those horrifyingly shit-covered sheets behind… several seconds later, I listened to Antonio’s racing footsteps and rushed apologies. Something about how _he_ was sorry and _he_ didn’t mean to embarrass me.

Yet I neglected to remove myself from the beautiful, sacred haven that God hath lead me to.

...I then knew how that one woman felt when she farted on me during intercourse and I chuckled, except probably a thousand times worse. I was deserving of this event, but I really didn’t want to be. I quietly asked God if I could apologize to that woman and undo all this, but God shook their head.

I think Antonio had noticed my ugly sobbing emitting from the closet, so he timidly cracked open the door and spoke softly.

“H-hey,” he started, “you o-okay?”

Clearly, I was not. I wanted to scream at him that I fucking _knew_ that I shouldn’t have tried to bottom and I _knew_ I shouldn’t have fallen for Antonio’s dastardly, awful charms!

But my lips flailed and simply let out a stream of blubbering sounds, then he pulled me to his chest and I had no choice but to melt into his warmth. He hushed me, then dragged me back to the bed. We kind of just laid there, with his shiny arms sliding around my waist, letting me know I was not to escape no matter how much I wanted to disappear. We shared a quick kiss, then he engulfed us in the blankets. Nuzzling my face back into the depths of his tanned chest (apparently able to move again), I didn’t allow my eyes to ever meet his gentle, nurturing ones.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually not in the Hetalia fandom anymore, lmao. Take this old fic I wrote.
> 
> If you don't understand something, feel free to ask. I don't have and am not looking for a beta reader.


End file.
